Picture
by nemaara
Summary: Raven's always hated pictures, but this one time, she'll allow herself to be bought off just because he was the one who asked. Raven/Robin.


Disclaimer: Teen Titans isn't mine

I feel like this one isn't as good since I wasn't too keen on writing today, but I suppose it's passable.

"Speech"

_Thoughts_

* * *

It wasn't until Batman asked him for a picture of her that he realized that Raven had never had her picture taken.

Which was weird, since they did get quite a bit of publicity and he was fairly certain that the paparazzi especially tried to catch him and Raven alone since they all had the deluded idea that she was his girlfriend. Which in a way, he supposed, she was, but that was besides the point.

But it was even weirder that she didn't even have any pictures with the rest of them. Maybe it was because all of them knew her that they had simply accepted the fact that Raven hated being seen at all, let alone having her picture taken. But still, not even one... _guess we'll just have to fix that, won't we? __  
_

Raven was stubborn, he knew, but she wasn't as pigheaded as she seemed to be. There was a certain way of asking her and being persistent, and if that failed, bribes usually worked too.

Humming to himself, he grabbed his camera and got up, walking out into the hall.

* * *

_Knock knock. _

Robin waited for a couple minutes, then knocked again.

No reply.

Scratching his head, he typed in a code and opened her door, peering inside. "Raven?"

She wasn't in. He turned to leave, but then he caught sight of what appeared to be a picture frame on her dresser. He looked around carefully for a couple minutes, then slipped inside and closed the door behind him.

He set the basket of chocolate he had brought with him on a bookshelf near the door, then walked toward her mirror and picked up the picture on her dresser.

It was a formal one, by the looks of it; she wasn't wearing the normal cloak and leotard, but rather had been dressed in a finely spun white dress, laced with violet bows at the sleeves, collar and waist. She appeared to be pretty young, maybe only ten or eleven, especially standing beside another woman with violet hair - presumably her mother.

Raven had once told him that her mother had been raped by Trigon and cast out to live on her own in the streets of Gotham. Cursed by life, cursed by everything, not unlike Raven herself, her mother had apparently not given up the will to live and had found a place to give birth to her daughter safely, in Azarath. She had led a difficult life, a _very _hard one by most standards, but she had not given in. She had apparently had a powerful inner strength, like her daughter.

It was not apparent from the picture, at least not at a glance. They both seemed completely expressionless, looking mildly at the camera; there was no strength in posture, nor was there spirit in their eyes... nothing seemed to indicate that perseverance that he knew Raven was capable of, at least.

If anything, in her posture, the slouch of her shoulders, depression hung about her like a cloud, barely held back. If not for that slouch, her picture might have been completely neutral, but with it, it was horrible to look at. He tore his eyes away for a moment, rubbing his temples.

She was, at heart, unhappy. He knew that. But it never failed to strike a chord with him. He knew she was unhappy, but he could never figure out what to do about it. A picture, a small moment of happiness, and sometimes she was content, but the vast majority of her life lay within the dark storms of malevolent feelings, or repression, or despair. Given her history, it was no wonder that she was like that, but still... he wished that she would carry herself a little more confidently. But that just wasn't who she was, he knew.

She wasn't smile. But then, Raven never smiled. And she was tense. But she always seemed to be tense.

Which was awful, really; everyone needed to relax sometimes, and the fact that she couldn't really didn't do her mind or body much good, but she had gotten used to it over the years. And not smiling, not even showing any emotion, save for annoyance sometimes.

For Raven, he knew, everything was a fight for control. Forget about showing emotions, even feeling anything strongly was dangerous for her, and so she came across as unfeeling. But in her small gestures, it became apparent that she felt far more than most people thought she did.

Contrary to how she appeared at first glance, Raven was far from unfeeling. No, in fact, she was one of the most colorful people he knew, and it wasn't just colors on the dark side of the spectrum. She could be fun at times, even with the depressing aura that usually hung about her. Part of him wished that she would be happy, wished that she could let herself smile and not just make awkward smirks at him, but he knew that that wasn't who she was. _She's always tense. That's just how it is._

It wasn't obvious, if one didn't look carefully. But he was used to be observant, and it was in the clutch at her mother's dress, the slight furrow in her brows... she was stressed, and he could do nothing about it. He always hated the fact that he couldn't help her, but that wouldn't change so easily.

But thankfully, she wasn't one to give in so easily either.

There was the hint of a hard glint in her eyes, and her lips, pursed thinly, in a stubborn line, were characteristic of that side of Raven that they all knew. The Raven that refused to give up, who often got angry with them for doing stupid things, but he was glad that it was there. Otherwise she might not have been here with them today. She might not have fought to defeat her father and her heritage. But that, too, wasn't who she was. Raven _always _fought, he knew, and it was a good thing too.

That girl, who seemed so small, so vulnerable in the picture... in many ways, she was like that, but pushing her was impossible. She was stubborn beyond all belief, at least when it came to serious things. But that ability to never give in, he loved her for it.

She seemed so expressionless, so pale, so colorless, but it was all a trick. She was afraid of showing emotion, or anything personal, but inevitably it showed in her gestures.

The clutch at her mother's dress, the inseparable bond of family - true family, not like her father - he knew she was capable of great affection because even if she didn't appear to care, she had gone to great lengths to cheer all of them up before. Especially him, especially when she had saved him from Slade. Or on the anniversary of his parents' death, she had been there. Or when he had had another fight with Batman, she had been the one to calm him down.

He traced her face with his finger. Yes, the person in this picture was distinctly Raven. Unmistakably her.

"It's all that I have to remember my mother by," Raven's voice sounded quietly from behind him.

He nearly jumped - he wasn't used to being crept up upon without realizing it, but somehow she had been completely silent coming back into her room.

Robin turned slowly. "You're... not going to kill me for coming in without your permission?"

Raven shrugged. "You're not Beast Boy. You won't mess with my things. And besides, you brought compensation," she unwrapped a chocolate and smiled slightly, savoring the taste in her mouth.

Robin turned back. "So your mother's gone then."

The violet haired girl sat on her bed, staring at her hands. "Yeah."

He moved over and held her hands in his own. "I'm sorry."

She blinked at him, surprised. "It's fine. I've... gotten over it."

"Have you?"

She sighed. "If I let myself dwell on it, I would have problems. I try not to think about these things."

Robin shifted beside her and ran a hand through her silken violet locks. "You should relax."

"If I could, I would," she murmured, letting him play with her hair.

His hand moved lower and he squeezed her neck lightly. She made a slight noise of discomfort, but it swiftly turned into a sound akin to a purr. He felt the tense muscles in her neck loosen slightly.

After a minute or two, she shifted away and looked at him. "So I assume you wanted a picture of me?"

"... how'd you know?"

"You were staring at the picture on my dresser. Duh."

"Oh. Well, uh, Batman wanted one of you and I realized that nobody had ever taken a picture of you, so..."

Raven tilted her head. "I guess that's true."

"So that's a yes?"

The violet haired girl blinked a couple times, then smiled. "How about one of us?"

He caught the slight emphasis she had put on the last word. "Us," he repeated. "I like the sound of that. A picture of us."

"Calm down, Boy Wonder," Raven laughed softly. "This stays between us. And Batman, if you are so inclined to send it to him."

He grinned. "The old man will be surprised."

"I'm sure he will be," Raven stood, rummaging through a drawer for a second, then pulling out a small camera.

She held it out to him and he took it, pointing it at them.

"Say cheese."

The best part was, when he went to look at it again, Raven was smiling ever so slightly.

She looked content, which was rare for her, but sometimes she had little moments of tranquility in her never ending battle for control. And that was what pictures were good for, weren't they? Capturing moments...


End file.
